REAL
by Patcat
Summary: Toys.
1. Chapter 1

REAL

Chapter One

Her bedroom surprised him. Part of his reaction was due to his astonishment at getting to see her bedroom at all. In spite of his vague hopes and all too vivid dreams, he never expected to see the inside of Alex Eames' bedroom. He certainly never expected to be in her bed with Alex's beautiful, supple, naked body curled up on his not so beautiful, not so supple, but equally naked body. Bobby was skeptical of formal religion, but he held a vague faith in a supreme being of some sort, and he fervently thanked him/her/it for the fact that he'd made love with Alex last night, that he'd told her that he loved her, and, most amazingly and wonderfully, that she'd told him that she loved him. He slept well—for him, remarkably well—after their coupling, and he knew that Alex's presence calmed him and drove away the monsters and demons that usually chased and cursed him in his dreams. He wasn't sure what woke him up—perhaps the sound of birds outside Alex's windows (Bobby usually woke before the birds and somewhere where other sounds covered their songs)—but he knew it wasn't a nightmare. And he was tremendously grateful for that.

His body expressed a basic need, and Bobby moved to slip from Alex's arms. She stirred slightly and hugged him; Bobby's heart soared.

"She wants me," he thought. "She doesn't want me to go."

His body, unfortunately, wouldn't be denied. He moved carefully and managed to slip his pillow into Alex's arms to replace his body. She frowned, wrapped her arms around the pillow, and drew it to her. When he returned from the bathroom, Bobby gazed down at her. The pale light from the window had grown, and the open window let in the chilly morning air. Bobby pulled on his boxers and T-shirt, reasoning that Alex could always have the pleasure of removing them if she wanted. He got back in the surprisingly large bed—bigger than his own—as silently and stealthily as he could. He replaced the pillow with his body without waking her, and his heart soared again when Alex hugged him. He gently nuzzled her hair, desperate to sense all that he could about her. Her hair felt like silk and smelled of lavender. Bobby held her tenderly and tentatively; he was afraid that if her held her too tightly she might disappear. He was so happy he couldn't begin to contemplate sleep.

As the light grew stronger, his natural curiosity—or snoopiness—came into play. His chin resting lightly on Alex's head, he surveyed her bedroom. There was a large, sturdy cedar chest covered by a quilt at the foot of the bed. The curtains were functional, and the room's dominant color was a middle of the spectrum blue. The only things Bobby saw to suggest the gender of the room's occupant were perched on the top of the large chest of drawers in a corner. A massive, absurdly cute black and white panda dominated the center position. It was the sort of ridiculous stuffed animal boyfriends spent equally ridiculous amounts of money to win for their girlfriends at carnivals and fairs. Bobby wondered briefly if Alex's late husband was one of those boyfriends. A smaller, ferocious bulldog dressed in a NYPD uniform flanked the panda's right. Bobby had never seen a stuffed toy quite like it, and reasoned it must have been a custom made gift for Alex, probably from her family and probably to commemorate her graduation from the Academy or getting her gold shield as a detective. It was the last stuffed animal that fascinated Bobby. At the panda's left rested a small dog. At one time the cheerful looking creature must have been a vibrant red, but the years had faded its coat to a shade just the side of pink. The dog's exterior was worn all over, and Bobby thought the wear came from more than just time. This was a toy that was loved, that a little girl held through illnesses and nightmares; that a teenager whispered secrets to; and that a young woman revealed her grief and fears to. Bobby smiled. He always knew that a great heart beat inside Alex's tough skin; last night she'd shown some of it to him, and he thought that this little red dog had traveled that heart's journey. Alex stirred in his arms, and Bobby tenderly kissed her head.

In the next few days and nights Bobby became more familiar with Alex's home. She didn't object to his snooping and actually seemed to welcome his interest in her life. One morning on a spring day when they had time off, Bobby wandered over to the drawers while he waited for Alex to emerge from the shower. He lifted the panda's enormous arms, examined the bulldog's amazing accurate uniform, and tenderly picked up the red dog. He smiled as he realized that this was a deeply loved toy.

"Hey." Alex's bemused voice broke in on his thoughts. "Be careful with my toys."

Bobby carefully returned the dog to its place. The care he took in handling the toy touched Alex.

"I bet," she smiled. "That you've already got theories about where these came from."

Bobby blinked and grinned. "I'm afraid so."

Alex curled up on the bed. "So tell me, Mr. Holmes…What can you tell me about these creatures?"

Bobby's hand hovered over the panda. "This is the youngest…It's one of those things you win at a carnival or fair…This one probably…" Bobby stopped, aware that this was not just some exercise to Alex. "Look…Alex…I don't want to dredge up anything…"

"You think," Alex said. "That an old boyfriend…" She softened at the realization Bobby didn't want to hurt her. "Or my husband…"

He nodded.

"Don't worry." She smiled. "But I'm afraid you're wrong. I won that. But you're sorta right at the same time. A boyfriend…well, he hoped to be a boyfriend…He was trying to impress me by winning it…It was one of those galleries where you competed shooting against other people…I was at the Academy and I was one of the best shots in my class." She laughed proudly. "I beat the would be boyfriend and about a dozen other guys."

"Wow," Bobby said admiringly. "I can understand why you kept it." He turned to the bulldog. "Let's see if I can do better with this one." He studied the toy. "A gift for getting through the Academy? Or making detective?"

Alex smiled. "Making detective. There's a lot of cops in the Eames family. We've got some sergeants and lieutenants, but I was the first to get a gold shield, and it was a major event. My sister-in-law who's married to my brother the cop made it."

"But it's in uniform," Bobby frowned.

"You don't miss much, do you, Goren? My brother insisted…Said I needed to remember my roots." Her expression saddened.

"Something wrong?" Bobby asked gently.

"Just…just…" Alex looked out the window, but Bobby knew the view wasn't in her thoughts. "Joe…he never liked that dog…" She finally said. "It was one of the few things we argued about…He seemed to think it was a reflection on my outranking him…He wasn't usually like that."

"I'm sorry," Bobby said.

"It's ok," Alex smiled again at him. She curled her legs under her body. "The red dog…Tell me about that one."

"Ah…this little fellow." Bobby brushed his fingers across the worn cloth. "This is the really special one…You've had him since you were a kid…a very young kid…He was probably a Christmas or birthday present…You've kept him all these years…You love him enough that you're willing to take anything anyone might say about him…" Bobby considered his words. "Of course he might be a she."

Alex grinned. "She's a she."

"Sorry about that," Bobby apologized. "SHE is clearly a loved toy." He glanced at Alex. "Did you ever read THE VELVETEEN RABBIT?"

Alex thought for a moment. "Oh, yea…That's the story about the stuffed rabbit that the little boy loved so much that the toy became a real rabbit, right?"

Bobby nodded. "This toy…this toy is real."

Alex fought against the lump forming in her throat. Bobby's manner and voice told her that the story meant a great deal to him. "You got that right," she said shakily. "I think I got him when I was three for my birthday." She rose from the bed and walked towards Bobby. He stepped out of her way, and she picked and held the dog with great affection. "I can't remember not having her." She looked bashfully at Bobby. "Her name is Lassie."

Bobby struggled not to laugh. "C'mon," Alex smiled. "How many dogs' names does a three-year-old know?"

"Point taken," he answered.

"She went everywhere with me…My Dad always said I was the easiest going of his kids, but heaven help everyone if Lassie got lost…and somehow, she never did…She's been with me all of these years. Through those teenage storms…through college…I broke up with a couple of guys who made fun of her…"

"Noted," Bobby said gently. "Do not pick on Lassie."

Alex looked at the dog for a moment. "When Joe was murdered," she said deliberately and softly.

Bobby held his breath; Alex had spoken of her late husband only in passing, and he sensed she was about to make a great revelation to him.

"That night," Alex continued. "I lay in bed and sobbed and sobbed…and just held on to Lassie. She got me through a lot of nights like that…" She tenderly touched the tip of the dog's faded nose and placed her back in her place.

Now Bobby fought against the growing lump in his throat. "Yea," he managed to say. "Lassie's real."

Alex looked at him, and Bobby didn't care if the lump choked the life out of him. "I hope she's not jealous," Alex said calmly. "I haven't needed her much lately…I've had you to hold on to."

End Chapter One


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

In the beginning, they spent much of their time at Alex's house. Bobby's apartment was closer to Major Case, but that was the place where they had met since the start of their professional partnership to wrestle with files, grab naps, and eat cold pizza and lukewarm Chinese food. It was a bit too much like the office, a place where they worked. And, as Alex pointed out, Bobby's bed was just big enough for him. Trying to squeeze both of their bodies in that comparatively small space was a bit of a challenge, although she did admit it was an enjoyable one.

It was a challenge they were increasingly willing to accept. On this early morning, Alex lay with her head and upper body sprawled across Bobby's chest. He was a large and comfortable pillow most of the time, and Alex loved to rest on him and listen to the beat of his heart. It thrilled her that Bobby loved to wakeup with her body over his. She lifted her head cautiously and rested it on her arms so that she could study him. This was one of the rare mornings when she woke before he did, and she enjoyed the opportunity to simply look at him. He was often as restless in his sleep as he was when he was awake, but at the moment his body's only movement was an occasional blinking of his eyes. Alex smiled and slowly untangled her body from his. He stirred slightly and reached for her; Alex quickly slipped her pillow into his arms.

When she returned from the bathroom, Bobby clutched the pillow to his body. The site deeply touched Alex. None of her previous lovers—even her late husband—had been so desperately attached to her. In the Squad Room, on the job, Bobby maintained a more than respectable distance from her. It was a distance and attitude Alex occasionally found difficult to maintain. But once they entered his apartment or her house he struggled to keep contact with her, even if it was only to rest a hand lightly on her back. In bed, he curled around her after they made love as if he was terrified to lose their connection. Alex thought that as great as the sex was for both of them, Bobby might value more the physical and emotional contact after it. "But then again," she grinned. "He is a guy."

She slipped a T-shirt over her head; there was an early spring morning chill in the air, and she knew Bobby would enjoy the challenge of removing it. She looked carefully around Bobby's sleeping area—to call it a bedroom would be an exaggeration if not an outright lie. His apartment consisted of a small kitchen just to the left of the door; a large closet that separated the kitchen from the one large room; and, at the end of the apartment, a long, narrow bathroom. A tall chest of drawers and several bookshelves separated the bed from the rest of the apartment. Part of the apartment's wall sized balcony window was at the foot of the bed with a few feet of space providing passage to the bathroom. The chest faced the bed with its back to a bookshelf; another, shorter bookshelf faced the bed with its back to a much taller one.

Alex's tendency to snoop was not quite as open as Bobby's, but she possessed many of the characteristics of a Major Case Detective. She'd examined most of Bobby's shelves; they contained a massive number and wide ranging variety of books ("You actually need a library card?" Alex asked Bobby at one point. "These," Bobby responded. "Are the essentials.") But Alex had never really viewed the contents of the shelf facing the bed. "Probably because I was too busy doing other things," she thought with a smile.

There was just enough room to allow her to kneel between the shelf and the bed. The shelf had four rows; its back was to a shelf that reached to the ceiling. A map of New York City in the early 1900s decorated the back of the taller shelf. The top of the short shelf held a small lamp, and Bobby's keys, cell phone, badge, ID, binder, wallet, plastic gloves, handcuffs and gun—"All of his tools," Alex thought. The second row contained several library books—Bobby's progress through them marked by pieces of paper and bookmarks. Alex noted happily that several of the bookmarks were gifts from her, and a close examination of the titles revealed that several of the books were ones she'd mentioned to Bobby. "He's reading them because I did," she wondered. "He cares about my opinion…What I think." The third shelf contained the only personal photos visible in Bobby's apartment. One showed two teenaged boys—one clearly a young Bobby and the other his friend Lewis—standing proudly in front of an old Chevy. As her eyes moved to the two other carefully frame photos on the shelf Alex's breath caught in her throat. One was from the Major Case Squad's holiday party of two years ago, and it showed a laughing Alex dangling a sprig of mistletoe over an unsuspecting Bobby Goren. A moment after the photographer snapped the photo Alex gave Bobby a quick peck on the cheek. Alex fought against laughing at the memory of Bobby's stunned response to that kiss. The last photo was of Alex and her nephew looking at each other with a mixture of mischief and devotion. "How," Alex thought. "Did he get that? He must have bribed my Dad…"

Only the last shelf remained for her inspection. There was a locked strong box that Alex knew contained Bobby's will and other documents; she'd seen him putting things in and pulling things out of it. There was another box, a wooden one roughly the same size as the strong box. Alex touched it hesitantly, and it opened almost by itself. She gasped at its contents. Jumbled inside, some still in their cases, were several awards and decorations from Bobby's days in the Army and with the NYPD. She recognized one of the cases and opened it reverently to reveal the NYPD Medal of Honor. She knew Bobby had one; when their partnership began she'd heard the rumors and confirmed them with other cops, but she'd never seen it. A great uncle in the Eames family reportedly had received one, but this was the first time Alex had seen a Medal of Honor up close, let alone actually touched one. The one time Alex attempted to discuss it with Bobby he'd mumble that it was for something any cop could or would have done and quickly changed the subject. She didn't press the issue, recognizing that Bobby was extremely embarrassed by the medal, as he was by all praise. She examined the other awards; few of them were the sort given just for showing up. Most were the real thing, given for acts of real bravery. Alex knew Bobby was a brave man—he demonstrated that every day—but seeing these small, metallic bits of tangible proof of that bravery moved her in ways she didn't quite understand or expect. The fact that Bobby didn't appear to know how to accept them created a deep sadness in her. "I suspect," she thought. "Bobby doesn't need proof of his bravery…or really believes it's not that big of a deal."

She tenderly closed the box and placed it on the shelf. She turned her attention to the last items on the bookcase. There was a battered NYPD handbook ("So he does know the regulations," Alex thought); an equally worn copy of the statutes of New York City ("Of course," Alex thought. "Bobby Goren would find them suitable bedtime reading."); a thin paperback of the U.S. Constitution; two paperbacks containing the Sherlock Holmes stories; and several other well read paperback editions of several classics. As she carefully thumbed the books, Alex saw something in the corner. She touched it and realized it was a stuffed animal. She cautiously pulled it into the dim light.

It was a small cat, far more battered and bedraggled than Lassie. Alex thought it might comfortably rest in both of Bobby's hands. Its dominant color appeared to have once been a bright blue; the deeply set eyes were certainly bright bits of shiny blue plastic. Several of it paws and tail bore stitching that indicated a part had been lost and repaired at some time; the clumsiness of the sewing and the varied colors of the thread suggested that the repairs weren't the work of an adult. The cat's whiskers also showed signs of injury and first aid, and its ears were frayed. Its body was uneven in spots, suggesting that he or she had lost some of its stuffing. But, in spite of its wear and tear, its patches and its injuries, the cat retained a curious and intelligent—almost jaunty—expression. "This toy," Alex thought. "Is real…maybe more real than Lassie."

As she carefully placed the cat back on the shelf, Alex noticed another book. She pulled it out, and her heart skipped a beat. It was a copy of THE VELVETEEN RABBIT, as battered as the blue cat and bearing almost as many signs of surgery. She cautiously opened the faded cover to reveal a short message on the first page written in a precise hand. "Bobby; I know this is your favorite book. Now it's your first book. Remember what it says. Being loved makes you real. I love you. Mom"

Alex could scarcely read the letters for the tears in her eyes, and a lump in her throat threatened to choke her. She closed the book, and tenderly returned it and the cat to their places on the shelf. She turned, and discovered Bobby lying on his side and his great, dark eyes focused on her.

"Good morning," he said softly. His voice was gentle.

"Good morning," Alex answered hesitantly. "I hope you don't mind too much…I was…" She shrugged. "Snooping."

Bobby pulled two pillows under him to raise his body. "Of course not…After all, I was snooping in your house."

Alex got up on the bed next to him; Bobby lifted the covers so that she could slip next to him. He shivered slightly as the cool morning air hit his naked body.

"Ok? You need some clothes?" Alex asked.

"I'll be back in a sec," he answered. He swung his long legs out from beneath the covers and sat on the edge of the bed. Alex admired the muscles moving in his back and shoulders; it had become one of her favorite sights in recent weeks. 

"You want some coffee?" he asked.

"Not yet." Alex smiled. "I have hopes of staying in bed a little longer.

Bobby turned toward her and returned the smile. "I can't promise you anything…I'm not as young as I used to be…and you kept me up pretty late…"

"Oh," Alex called after him as he headed to the bathroom. "Who kept who up last night?"

Alex turned on her side and looked at the cat. Its condition clearly spoke not only of Bobby's love for it, but a rough life. Alex had some inkling of the difficult childhood Bobby experienced, but this small creature provided a real record of it. She wondered what she could say to him. He showed no signs of being upset with her examination of these signs of his past, but she wondered how far that tolerance might last.

"I've never known what to do with the medals." Bobby's voice broke in on her thoughts.

Alex rolled over. Bobby, now wearing his boxers and T-shirt, stood on the foot of the bed.

"I mean…" He ran a hand through his hair. "It's wonderful that someone thought enough of what I did to give those things, but…but…I really don't deserve them…" He shivered slightly. "I was just doing my job."

Alex lifted the covers. "C'mon," she said gently. "You're cold."

He slipped in beside her.

"I know," Alex said deliberately as she pulled the sheet and blankets over them. "That you get the Medal of Honor for something a bit more than just doing the job."

Bobby hesitantly raised his left hand to her cheek, but didn't touch her.

"And you certainly didn't get it because you have any influence with the Brass," Alex added.

Bobby smiled at her and tenderly pushed a stray strand of hair out of her eyes. He took a deep breath. "Blue."

"Blue?" Alex had learned how to read him, but Bobby's mental jumps still occasionally caught her.

"The cat…His name is Blue." Bobby didn't mind explaining things to Alex; she, at least, tried to follow his thoughts. "I know…three-year-old boys aren't any better with names than three-year-old girls." He rolled on his back. "He…he's been through a lot."

"I gathered that," Alex answered softly.

"When you were on leave." Bobby made another mental leap. "There was this case…A father…His adopted sons…They…conspired to murder him…The older one…He was twelve or thirteen…beat him…"

Alex recalled the case. She had shared drinks—something bland and nonalcoholic for her—with Bishop after its conclusion and listened to the younger detective's confused and frustrated reaction to Bobby's withdrawal.

"The key…why the kids did it…" Bobby continued. "They'd spent their early years in a Romanian orphanage…and…kids in institutions…they keep things…kids…kids in bad situations…" His voice wavered. "They cling to things because…It's something they can control…And the older boy…kept things…a button and a marble, I think…and I knew…that he killed his father because he and his brother were afraid of being abandoned again…" Bobby flung his left arm over his eyes. "That night…when I got home…I looked at Blue…and the book…They're my button and marble…"

Alex struggled to control her racing thoughts. Bobby had allowed her glimpses into his past, but he now appeared on the edge of giving her a full view. She tentatively rested her right hand on his arm. "I hope," she thought. "That I can do…say…the right thing."

He trembled at her touch. "It…It was never as bad as what those kids…a lot of kids…go through…" He swallowed. "It…there were a few times…when I was a kid…It was…a little chaotic…"

"That sounds like an understatement to me," Alex said.

He lifted his arm from his eyes and rested it by his side. "Yea…It's just that…We…even before my Mom got sick…We moved a lot…And then my Mom was in and out of the hospital…and after Dad left…There were a couple of times when she was sick and there was no one…"

Alex's hand found his and rested lightly on top of it.

"I…Frank wasn't around…He was…at college…or at least he was supposed to be…" Bobby turned his head to her; his eyes were dark and shiny in the growing light. "I wound up with protective services…and you…kids don't get a lot…to take much of anything…" His hand turned and his fingers curled around hers. "A lot of kids…They give up…Don't take…Trying to have something…Trying to be…be someone…" His grip tightened slightly. "You…you lose everything…even who you are…"

Alex reached out with her free hand; it hovered near his cheek.

"But somehow…I hung on to Blue…and that book…when I joined the Army…I didn't have much…but I managed to hide them…just like when I was a kid I'd put them in the bottom of the sack or whatever I had…I protected them…from other kids, but…but mostly from my Dad and my brother and my Mom…I know…They're just things…but…they meant…mean…so much…See…"

His grip grew slightly tighter.

"I learned to read early…and THE VELVETEEN RABBIT was the first real story I read all the way through." He smiled sadly. "Or at least memorized from my Mom reading it to me so much…And she gave me the book…and Blue…my last birthday before she got sick…And he got me…They got me…through a lot of those times when she was sick…I loved him so much I knew he was real…Enough that I was afraid I might lose him…"

Alex's hand finally rested on his cheek. "Well," she said. "You never did…And I'm real…Because you love me…and I'm not leaving."

Bobby blinked, and Alex saw the tears glisten in his eyes.

"I…I know," he whispered. "Thank you." His free hand joined hers on his cheek.

"And Bobby…"

"Yea…"

"I love you. You're real too."

End


End file.
